


A Bit of a Pickle

by TeeAitch



Series: You, talk. Me, apple. [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Banter, Erectile Dysfunction, Humor, Internally focalised narrative, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Short Attention Span, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion is a Mess, M/M, Mid-slash??, POV Jaskier | Dandelion, Pre-Slash, Witcher-style
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23786743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeeAitch/pseuds/TeeAitch
Summary: Sexy Times that Jaskier had been waiting for for eons were nigh. But something went wrong. Or, you know, soft."Alright, Geralt, do we talk about this? Because I think we should talk about this."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: You, talk. Me, apple. [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1716277
Comments: 26
Kudos: 217





	A Bit of a Pickle

**Author's Note:**

> My first Witcher fic. I was eating my lunch and thought: "Oooh, what if Geralt's dick didn't work when they finally got around to dicking." Then this happened.
> 
> Enjoy ❤️  
> Comments & kudos are most welcome

"Oh. Oh dear. I can't say I have expected that."

"-"

"Yeah. Oh. Hm. That's fine. Cool, cool, cool."

"Hm."

"I mean, yeah, okay, is that just, like, what happens sometimes? 'cause, you know, it's not uncommon with humans, but, like, witchers are not humans, you know - oh fuck, of course you know, what am I even saying."

"Fuck!"

"Haha, yeah, no, that's precisely the pickle we've found ourselves in. Haha - pickle."

"Oh _fuck_ ," grunted Geralt with feeling.

Jaskier giggled, unable to stop because, witchers. That. Rather unexpected.

This had happened to a bed partner or two of his before, obviously. Or is it obvious? Jaskier perused his many a memory of dallying with the uglier sex (is it fair to call all women fair and all men thus ugly? Most women are pretty and the outstanding beauties don't stand out that much, in Jaskier's humble bard's opinion. Gorgeous men do stand out. If only they would stand up now. Oh dear).

Yes, this had happened. Not recently as Jaskier had become more discerning about the company he kept, which resulted in fewer older gentlemen of the married variety.

"Alright, Geralt, do we talk about this? Because I think we should talk about this."

"You _would_ think that," muttered Geralt, took Jaskier by the hips, lifted him up a bit and deposited him next to himself. Leaning back against his palms Geralt let out a sigh, staring at everything and nothing.

A crackle in the fire lifted up a swarm of sparks and illuminated Jaskier's moderately uncoordinated efforts to turn around. Shuffling a bit closer, thigh to thigh and shoulder to shoulder, Jaskier stared at the fire with his mouth slightly agape.

"So," rasped Jaskier out and and cleared his throat.

"What do you want me to say, Jaskier?"

"Has that happened to you before?"

Geralt muttered something under his breath.

"Human ears over here."

"Yes, with men."

Jaskier closed his eyes. Fuck. "That's rather unfortunate, my dear witcher."

Geralt looked down. From the corner of his eye Jaskier could see fingers doing up the black breeches.

"Seeing as I have just professed my undying love for you and you said _hm_ in that tone of yours, which implies you reciprocate - speaking of, couldn't you have said it back?- this _pickle_ that you apparently experience only with men is quite the pickle!"

A long suffering sigh preceded a long suffering tone: "Could you stop saying pickle?"

"I hear it too, sorry."

A silence stretched out between them. Jaskier played with his half undone breeches' laces.

"Are you not attracted to men, Geralt?"

"No."

"No, you are not, or no, you are?"

"-"

"Geralt, please, this is important. You talk when things are important." Jaskier set a tentative hand on Geralt's knee, the left one which was further away rather than the right one. Why? Who knows why Jaskier does things. Certainly not Jaskier.

"Please."

"Some."

"Are you somewhat attracted or attracted to some men? Gods, this is killing me, Geralt." Jaskier's voice gained a whining quality to it. Oooh, diminished fifth.

"Some men."

"Yes, good, do go on."

"Yes, Jaskier, I'm attracted to you."

"That's awfully good to hear. Now, I don't want to be a thorn in your side, I'm saying this with all the love I feel for you - which is a heaping pile on the longest table you can imagine - are you certain about that? Are you certain you're not just confused?"

"Yes, I'm certain."

"Are you?"

"Stop it, Jaskier," Geralt growls. "I'm attracted to your face, your throat, your chest hair, your forearms, your arse and your ankles. Happy?"

Jaskier giggles. "You like my forearms?"

"The muscles move when you play the lute."

"And my throat?"

"You have a prominent bulge there."

"Are you sure it's not my penis you're talking about?"

"Jaskier."

"Sorry, sorry, but I need to ask: the ankles?"

"No," Geralt's body tensed, about to get up but Jaskier clamped his right hand hand tightly on Geralt's right knee. The unusual stretch of Jaskier's back (why is he holding both of Geralt's knees? why is he being so weird? Melitele, send a lightning upon this bumbling idiot bard, these are unacceptable heights of weird, even for Jaskier) makes his vertebrae pop.

"Stay, don't leave, please," begged Jaskier and when Geralt relaxed slightly, Jaskier let go of both of his knees (finally, get it together, Jaskier). He rolled up his breeches a bit and shoved his feet sideways into Geralt's lap.

"See? See the finest ankles in all the land? You can't leave," Geralt placed his palms on the offending limbs, hummed softly and petted the left ankle with his fingertips.

"They're delicate," he offered.

"Like those of a maiden?" whispered Jaskier, all of a sudden unnervingly calm. Please, say no, he can't become a maiden for Geralt. Or can he? No, improbable and he has his dignity, gods damn it.

"No, Jaskier, delicate like those of a Jaskier."

"That doesn't make any sense," Jaskier said hoarsely, elated and a little moved and what a mess of ups and downs today is.

"Don't cry," Geralt rumbled without any inflection.

"I'll very well cry if I want to, you brute," snuffled Jaskier. Wiping his nose with the back of his hand, he coughed once, twice, yeah, that's enough.

"What are we going to do, Geralt?"

"Try again later when I'm not pumped full of potions?"

Jaskier opened his mouth but no words came out, only a wheezing sound uncomfortably reminding Jaskier of Rinde, oh, no, no, no, no, no, bad memories, no, thanks.

"Are you-" Jaskier's voice caught in his throat. "Are you saying that this is happening because of your witchery-ditchery quack tinctures?"

"Yes?"

This is not happening. Jaskier brandished his finger like a branding iron and began poking Geralt in the chest. "I can't believe this. I can't. fucking. believe this. I can't believe _you_ , mister, you-you-you _witcher_!" Oh great, what an insult. Yennefer is cackling somewhere like the hyena she is.

Geralt rolled his eyes and stood up but not before gently displacing Jaskier's ankles (delicate ankles that made Geralt almost fuck him and isn't that a thought). He walked to Roach while Jaskier clambered to his feet seething, opening and closing his mouth like a carp. Out of his saddlebags he dug up three apples, bit into one, gave the second to Roach, turned around, began walking back and when he was just a few steps away, he stuffed the fruit into Jaskier's mouth when it was open just enough.

Sputtering and flailing, Jaskier took out the apple out of his mouth. Oooh, yummy. "You, talk. Me, apple."

Geralt sat back down, biting off a chunk of his apple, chewed once, twice, thrice and said: "It just makes me impotent, sometimes. And sometimes I'm fine."

"Why did you say it only happens with men?" Jaskier crumpled down theatrically; it happens sometimes to Jaskier that he goes down to the ground clutching at something immovable in his immediate vicinity and - well hello there, Geralt, have you been here all this time, oh so clumsy of me.

Jaskier ended up straddling Geralt once again. Geralt huffed exasperatedly (but he loves Jaskier anyway, he hummed so!).

"I don't think things I say through, sometimes."

"Oh, right, yeah, that's true," Jaskier grinned. Child surprise, anyone?

"It's a coincidence. It happened only several times before. I don't usually fuck after slaying a monster. There were some men."

"I can feel it coming to me, it's going to be a ballad of a witcher who doesn't talk because when he talks he gains children and loses would-be lovers, the chorus goes like this: With a potion in his bloodstream - Geralt cannot make his love scream - Oh, oh, my, my, what a, what a shock - How tragic that I cannot suck his-"

Geralt stuffed his own apple into Jaskier's mouth. Jaskier proceeded to splutter and flail, repetitive much?, before he spat out the offending produce and scowled.

"Oh fuck you, Geralt."

Geralt gave Jaskier a wolfish smirk: "That would solve our pickle, wouldn't it?"

**Author's Note:**

> A shameless plug here: I've been obsessed with The Amazing Devil and also bored during the quarantine so I made a dance video to [Farewell Wanderlust](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=k0XlebaxqFI).
> 
> I'm on [Tumblr](https://tee-aitch-official.tumblr.com/), come hang out with me.


End file.
